Beaten Doesn't Mean Broken
by YourGuardianAngel08
Summary: Peter Parker did not kill. He had been through enough in his life that it was one of the few things he was always cognizant of and it defined Spider-Man as a hero. But when Peter kills to protect Tony, how will he reconcile that choice and deal with what he had done? Takes place after Infinity War.
1. Chapter 1

**So I've seen some stories about how Peter would deal with killing someone and it was an interesting premise to me so I wanted to add my own take on that situation. Kind of like with the other story I wrote, this will take place after Infinity War so there are some relationship changes that have not really been worked out yet.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Tony grumbled to himself as he stepped into the warehouse. It seemed like a sketchy place to begin with but this was where he had tracked the vibranium tech so this was where he was, "FRIDAY, where is everyone?"

"I'm not sure sir," The AI paused, "I'm not getting anything on the scans."

Tony watched the display, visually scanning the warehouse for a sliver of the activity he had assumed would be there.

"Scan again, this time focusing on the wavelength vibranium oscillates on." Tony paused, waiting for the calculations and he knew it worked when men began to materialize out of the shadows, moving slowly toward him, "Shit." He whispered, his repulsors coming to life. At the whine of the suit the men started to move faster and Tony released a pulse, sending a few of them back as the others ran into the fray. There were quite a few men but they were easy for Tony to fend off and he could not help but wonder where all of these guys had come from and why they were so willing to run into his gun fire.

Then two things happened quickly. An electrified stick came flying out of nowhere and struck him on the back, forcing him to his knees. Tony could feel the breeze that indicated a break in his suit, "What the hell was that?" He yelled at FRIDAY. Before she could respond, one of the men rushed in and slammed something onto the reactor in his chest piece before backing up out of his range of attack. The decisiveness of the action promised some kind of immediate payoff as the men around him slid away. The abrupt change forced Tony to look down at the thing on his chest. It was a small metallic looking circle but it did not seem to be doing anything, confusion colored his next question, "FRIDAY, what is that?"

"I'm not sure boss," came the sweet Irish accent.

Tony paused for a moment longer, "Well try to figure it out."

"On it."

A few more seconds passed without incident. Tony shrugged, assuming that the disk did not work the way it was supposed to, so he raised the repulsor to fire into the circle of men when a heavy pulse emitted from the thing on his chest.

"Sir!" FRIDAY came as close as she could to shouting, and the repulsor went dead on his arm as Bleeding Edge started to peel back from his hands, "Damage done to tertiary systems."

"Get them back online!" Tony started to claw at the disk on the flickering reactor with his bare hands realizing it was the source of the burst but the thing had formed a solid seal.

"I'm trying." FRIDAY ground out.

Then a second pulse emitted from the disk.

"Si-r, ba-si-c sy-t… dow…"

"FRIDAY?" Cold fear crept into Tony's chest, whatever this was he was not prepared for it. This was not just an EMP, this was something else. He felt the dispassionate mask slip into place, "FRIDAY, send out a distress signal as wide as you can. Get someone here."

"Ov…co-ur-s…ir."

As her voice cut out, a third pulse erupted from the piece and Tony felt the rest of his armor retreat back as the glow of the reactor winked out. The metallic piece remained annoyingly, steadfastly stuck.

"Shit." Tony groaned before stepping back into a defensive stance Natasha had taught him while his mind ran through as many escape patterns as he could come up with. Unfortunately, most of them required some form of mechanical...something.

He forced himself to squash the panic threatening to keep him from doing anything and refocused his attention on the brutes now forming a circle around him. They were close enough to link arms when a voice broke through Tony's quietly screaming thoughts.

"Ah the great Tony Stark." But it did not continue from there as Tony's name hung in the air like a promise.

The anticipation of more than his name started to piss him off so he did what he did best, he spoke with his haughtiest tone, "And you are?"

The voice was gratingly jovial, the self-assured air of a man who was actually close to getting what he wanted, "Just one of the many people you have pissed off in your undeservedly long life."

Tony groaned, why did they always have to be so cryptic? He tried again the annoyance exaggerated in his tone, "If you want to get anything done, you're going to have to be more specific."

The voice just laughed, "Let's just say I'm an investor in new technology."

Alright the games were starting to wear thin, more so because he was facing a large group of men who seemed to want nothing more than to kick his ass. Tony was just buying time at this point using his anger to drive his responses and praying that the distress call had gone out, "What does that even mean?"

The jovial voice became much more serious then, "It means, Tony, that I want something you have and you are going to give it to me, but not until my…associates…are able to exact their own payment."

Why were people always trying to take stuff from him? Seriously, what exactly had he done to deserve that? But Tony thought he should probably phrase it a slightly different way, "What if I don't want to give it to you?"

"Well its really hard to stop someone from doing something when you're dead." The disembodied voice paused for a moment before continuing, "I just realized how dramatic that sounded but…oh…never mind. Have at him."

The men in the circle around Tony closed in. He actually managed to hold his own for a few blows but ten against one is more than even Steve could take easily and being down a suit meant he was not going to make it out of here without a hell of a fight. Hoping against hope that someone was coming, Tony pushed a rescue from his mind and focused completely on the men, readying himself for some serious bruises.

* * *

Peter was bored.

He had already managed to stop a car theft and a robbery but the streets of Queens were quiet tonight, either because it was too hot for the bad guys to bother or because they were finally learning to stay away from his neighborhood. Currently, he swung on a hammock suspended between two buildings, waiting for some kind of crime to stop. It was getting close to the end of Mr. Stark's imposed curfew but he had been hoping for just a little more action before the night was over.

Then Karen's soft voice broke the boring, if peaceful, silence, "Peter, I'm receiving a distress call from FRIDAY."

Peter stopped swinging as his skin prickled. Instantly on alert, he could not keep the tinge of fear from his pseudo-calm voice, "Not from Mr. Stark?" Panic started to worm its way into his mind. The suits were rarely the ones that called for help.

"No, it was sent from his suit, it's too garbled for even me to make out but she sent a location burst with it."

"Put it up on the screen and get me there." Peter quickly squashed his nerves and took off in the direction Karen had indicated.

* * *

For whatever reason, Mr. Stark was much closer to Queens than normal, so it did not take Peter long to get there. It was an old storage facility, Peter had seen it before on some of his more wide ranging patrols but he had never been inside, even thought it always looked like one of those places that were begging for trouble. Crawling up the side of the building as quietly as he could, Peter peaked into one of the windows on the third floor. It was dark but he could make out some movement on the first floor, he found it a little odd that he could not find the glow of Mr. Stark's suit but brushed the thought aside, he was probably in a different room. Realizing he needed a better vantage point, he headed down to one of the lower levels of windows. The closer he got, the quicker his breathing sped up, his spider sense was going crazy. Whatever was going on here, was not good. There were multiple threats from every angle.

As he crept down to the first level of windows, Peter peeked in again, his vision much clearer from this angle, "Karen, can you help me out here? What am I looking at?" The eyes of his suit narrowed as Karen focused in on the scuffling people in the center of the warehouse. The infrared helped him to distinguish what was going on but not who was who. From what he could tell, a large group of men were beating on one man in the center but there was no sign of Mr. Stark's Iron Man suit. Peter was already figuring out a way to get inside and help the man who was obviously at the group's mercy but fear was starting to creep into his chest when he still did not see his mentor, "Karen, can you tell where Mr. Stark is?"

His friend did not say anything but she did focus more clearly on the man in the center of the thug ring, "Peter, that is Mr. Stark. I'm reading the residue from his…"

Peter did not wait to hear the rest. He shot up to the second level of windows, his heart pounding in his ears and tongue sticking to the top of his mouth as he shot a web, using it to give him enough of an arc to crash through the first row of windows.

He tucked as he rolled and sprang up into a run. Quickly asking for one more thing, "Karen, can you get one of the quinjets here?" Her confirmation was the last thing he heard before his fist slammed into the back of one of the men in the ring. Peter threw him back and webbed him to the floor without a second thought. His entrance was so unexpected that everyone froze and he used their surprise to his advantage, quickly webbing up three more before they even knew what hit them. He tore through the men as if they were nothing, letting his fear drive his actions. The men were quickly incapacitated, most webbed to the floor or walls around them but a few unfortunately souls were hanging from the walk paths the floor up with webbing holding their hands fast. Peter dropped to his knees beside his mentor, his mask melting back into the rest of his suit as he looked him over. The state of Mr. Stark made him want to vomit, he could tell his leg was broken and given how bad his breathing sounded, more than just his leg was wrong. Peter could not squash the terror that consumed him as he brushed his hand through Mr. Stark's hair and he tried to comprehend the blood that seemed to be sluggishly pulsing from every part of his body. He could not hold back the whine that escaped his lips, "Mr. Stark?" It was punctuated by fear, pain, and something else. But then another sound broke through his shattered consciousness.

"Ahh, the little spider. I won't lie to you, I expected him to call anyone else." The disembodied voice rang through the space as people Peter had not expected to see melted out of the shadows.

The voice scared Peter. He did not realize there was anyone else in the warehouse. Instantly, his mask slid back over his face and he crouched low over Mr. Stark's body, whoever this person was, he was a threat. "Who are you?" Peter hated how weak his voice sounded, how pathetic he looked crouched low, hand tightly gripping Mr. Stark's shoulder like his life depended on it.

The voice did not answer, just kept taunting, "You're the youngest aren't you. Now, I'm very disappointed he didn't call anyone else. Oh well, you won't be the one to stop me."

Peter mentally shook himself, the only way they were getting out of this, the only way he could protect Mr. Stark was to end this quickly. Steeling himself for the fight he was guessing was about to come to him, he whispered to his friend, "Karen, I need you to tell me how many more there are."

She answered back, voice equally quiet, "I cannot tell, Peter. Something is blocking my sensors." But the words were only just uttered when heat signatures began to materialize in the shadows. The fear crept back up again as Peter realized there were a few more than ten men in the warehouse.

Karen seemed to read his thoughts, "I count another sixteen men, Peter. Please be careful."

"Thanks Karen." Peter whispered.

The men slowly stalked toward him and Peter took that in, adjusting his strategy in his head, he needed to keep them away from Mr. Stark. He still could not tell where the leader was speaking from though. Realizing he needed him to talk a bit more, Peter asked a question, "Why are you doing this?"

"You really are the young one aren't you?" The snide comment was tinged with contempt that Peter did not realize he had earned. Then the voice sighed, "Here's what you don't yet understand Spider-man, sometimes people do things because they want to and other times people do things because they need to happen. This is just one of those times when those two reasons coincided." The condescension in his voice would have been enough to make Peter mad if he was not so used to it from Flash.

"But why him?" Peter was buying time, Karen had the location of the quinjet up on his display along with the location of the men. Two of the men were advancing a bit faster than the others, they were where he would start.

"Why Stark? It is that confluence I was talking about. He had what I wanted and this needed to happen. Stark needs to learn that he's nothing more than a man with a suit." Then the man paused for a moment and Peter braced for what he assumed was the fight starting, until the voice came again, curious this time, "Is your suit the same as his? I saw the way your mask moved. Did he give his pet spider the same tech?"

When Peter did not answer, the man filled in the silence, "Well I guess we'll have to take it and find out. Kill him."

As soon as the orders were issued, Peter launched is webs at the two quicker moving men, sliding toward them and knocking them both back before charging at the others. He pulled his punches but after a few men went down quickly, those around him grouped up and attacked.

Peter was agile. He was good at getting away from people who wanted to attack him but even Spider-man could not deflect knives and well placed fists. The fight was a slug fest. Peter felt every blade that slipped passed his guard and every punch that landed when he was busy with someone in front of him. It was difficult to use his webs when the people attacking him were in such close range but he was afraid to move too far out of their vision or they might focus back on Mr. Stark. Which meant that Peter was stopping most of the attacks with his body. Eventually, he managed to web everyone up but he could feel the pain blossoming. Everything hurt but he crouched low in front of Mr. Stark again when clapping erupted through the now quiet warehouse.

"Maybe I underestimated you, little spider." A man emerged out of the shadows to the back of the room, four more men flanking him. "It seems you have more fight than I thought for one so young. So tell me, why do you fight so hard for him? Surely, you have better things to do than defend eccentric billionaires, even if he is an Avenger. I thought you were more of a help out the little guy kind of hero?" The mocking, condescending tone was back.

Peter could not keep the snarl out of his voice when he answered, "Because people like you don't deserve to be free." Capping his anger, Peter redirected the conversation, even as the rage boiled under his skin, "How did you do that by the way? Hide from my sensors?"

"Tsk tsk, little one. You are curious, what's say I show you?" Then he lunged followed closely by the men behind him. Peter jumped out of the way but it was sluggish and he could not avoid the painful shock of whatever the stick the man was wielding caused. Peter could not help but think that it looked like the bo staff Hawkeye used but he had never seen one electrified in that way. It stung.

"Peter," Karen spoke up, "you need to stay away from that, it disrupted the nanobots in your suit where it hit."

"Thanks, Karen," he managed to grind out while avoiding the fists of one of the other men. He swung a little too wide though, giving Peter a window to catch his fist in a web and pin him to the ground. One down.

Peter was normally the one to talk but the pain was starting to get to him so he just let the bad guy share his thoughts.

"See here is what I think," he swung at Peter's legs, forcing him to jump up and over but giving him an angle to incapacity another one of his goons, "I think you're Stark's pet. You owe him something and that is why you're here."

Peter ducked another swing and slid at another one of the men, catching him with a web to his face and flipping him over, webbing him to the floor. He could feel the anger rising in his chest but he did not respond to the man's taunting.

"No, that's not it, is it?" The man caught Peter in the back with the bo and he stumbled forward, feeling the sting of the electricity warp his suit. "Is it because you want him to like you? Is that all this is? You are so desperate for his approval that you are risking your life to save him."

Stamping down hard on how close to home that jab hit, Peter snarled his disapproval but bit his tongue, he could not give this man anything. The staff swung again. Low this time. Peter jumped it but out of no where it still cracked across his chest, his science t-shirt on display as he smacked into the ground behind him.

"I have some news for you, Spider-Man. Tony Stark doesn't want you for anything more than your abilities. You think he gave you that suit out of his innate sense of generosity and philanthropy?" His voice was callous and passionate at the same time as he pontificated.

While the man talked, Peter got to his feet. The other two men rushed him and Peter caught one arm and twisted, he heard the bone break but his attention was focused on the man with the bo. The man who was down, he webbed up. The fifth was just as easy, throughout all of it, the man continued talking.

"He gave you that suit because you could help him. You could be the one to take the risks while he sits in his compound and directs you where to go. Don't kid yourself, he doesn't give a damn about you." Then he rushed at him.

Peter's anger sharpened his senses and he managed to get in a few good hits before jumping up and out of the man's way. Tumbling over his head, he used some webbing to tangle up his feet. He felt the sting of the staff one more time before he got a web around it, yanking it out of the man's hands. Just to be sure, Peter webbed the man's hands to the floor and threw the electrified bo into an unoccupied corner of the warehouse. Forcing himself to calm down, Peter turned back to Mr. Stark. He could have Karen call the police after he got his mentor out of the area. Peter knelt next to the badly injured man, taking a moment to choke back tears so he could actually be useful. The bad guy seemed to notice his hesitation.

The man started to laugh. It was a deep throaty laugh that could only come from a villain and Peter tried to ignore it. But then he started to talk again, "Is he dead yet? My boys, they gave him a pretty good beating, I would imagine it won't take much longer. Course now that you're here, I'm sure he'll be fine." The condescension was back.

Peter was having a hard time dealing with the situation as it was and the man's constant chatter was starting to wear even his considerable patience thin. Peter shook his head, trying to straighten his thoughts and focus but dammit if the entire situation had thrown him off balance.

"What do you think you are going to do exactly?"

At some point throughout the talking, Peter had stepped up to the man and the incredulously asked question snapped him back to the present.

"Are you going to kill me? Payback for killing Stark?" He laughed again.

As soon as he heard the sound, as soon as the man mentioned Mr. Stark's name again Peter could not help the rage taking over his mind. This man had tried to take his dad away from him, was still trying too, and he was laughing about causing that pain. Then a small part of Peter's mind reminded him there was still a good chance Mr. Stark could die. His own injuries were screaming at him and then the man kept going.

"You think you've won don't you, little spider? Tony Stark has far too much confidence in your abilities, or maybe just in his suits."

The intense urge to break the man's face slammed into Peter but he fought it off, that was not what he did. Instead he told himself to just web up the man's mouth and he would stop but as he raised his arm to use the web, that mouth started moving again.

He was talking around a gleaming smile as he said, "I'll just try again, and again, until I get what I want." The man spat venom at Peter, smug arrogance on full display, "Because I know more about you than you think, Peter Parker."

Peter froze mid-web, no one was supposed to know his name outside of the Avengers. Panic joined the rage.

The man continued, "I know that you have an Aunt, that she's your only remaining family now that your poor parents and uncle are dead." He sneered, "I know that for some reason, the Avengers thought it appropriate to make you one of them. And I know that for a convoluted reason you feel like Tony Stark is some kind of what, mentor? But the most important thing I know about you is that no matter how many times you have been pushed, you. Don't. Kill." Then he hissed, "So don't worry about me. I'll escape and if I didn't manage to kill Stark this time, I'll do it the next time. And then I'll come for yo…" The man stopped speaking as the words became garbled gasps. The brain matter sucked and slurped as Peter pulled his clenched hand out of the man's skull. For a second, he just stared. His eyes jumping between his bloody fist and the unrecognizable thing that he knew to be a human skull attached to a slumped body. His brain spun into overdrive and he turned away from what he had done, only one thought acting as a mooring in his mind, _Get to Mr. Stark._

Stumbling away from the bloody mess he had just made, Peter fell back over to Mr. Stark. He landed at his mentor's side, hand swinging up over his mouth as he heaved. Bile quickly rose in the back of his throat as vomit threatened to spill out into his mask while the back of his eyes burned with unshed tears. But when he turned to the side, he caught a glimpse of Mr. Stark's quickly blackening face. Swallowing hard, he reminded himself that he could not lose it right now. Once he had Mr. Stark back at the compound where people could actually help him, then he would lose everything he had eaten for a week but not until that happened. Steeling his resolve he looked Mr. Stark over quickly, "Karen, can you scan him please? I need to know if I can move him."

Peter could not help himself, his mask retracted and as he waited for Karen, he had the chance to actually look Mr. Stark over. He looked horrible and Peter could not keep the tears from falling. Karen interrupted his thoughts, "Peter, there is something blocking my scans. Its difficult to tell what but there is a slight field around him that is disrupting any electrical equipment. It seems to originate at the reactor but it is difficult to tell."

Wiping his arm across his eyes, Peter looked for a reason when he saw the metallic disk. That had to be why Karen could not get a reading and Peter could not explain why but he _knew_ it was also the reason Bleeding Edge was not functioning. Working the disk back and forth, he managed to break the seal enough to wedge a finger under it and yank. The disk held for a moment longer before yielding, popping off with an oddly wet metallic sound before it shifted in his hand, morphing into a small metal ball about the size of a marble. "Karen, see if that did it," Peter absentmindedly ordered as he rolled the ball in his fingers a couple of times before sliding it into a mentally created pocket in his suit and turning his attention back to Mr. Stark. While he waited for Karen, he found himself running his gloved hands through his mentor's hair, offering what he hoped was comfort and at least letting Mr. Stark know he was not on his own.

Karen's calm voice filled his helmet again, "Peter, you need to get Mr. Stark to a hospital immediately."

The fear Peter had been carefully keeping at bay slammed into him as Karen continued, "His right leg was broken in multiple places including a displaced knee. He has multiple contusions and tears. Six ribs are broken and one has punctured a lung…"

Peter's sob stopped the AI, "Peter, I'm sorry. You asked." There was almost a guilt in her voice as she said it, or Peter just imagined it, projected it, maybe from his own pain. He swallowed back the sob again, "Karen please just tell me if I can move him. The quinjet is not far from here, I can get him there but I need to make sure it won't ki…" he choked, "kill him."

"Peter I do not know if he can be moved but he will die if he stays here." She sounded so sad.

That was really all the kid needed to hear. Carefully sliding an arm under Mr. Stark's shoulders and the other under his knees, he was about to lift him when Karen came back over the com, "Peter, the reactor is coming back online, FRIDAY is rebooting."

"That's good news," the teenager ground out before carefully lifting Mr. Stark's body and shifting so the unconscious man's head could rest on his shoulder. Ignoring the pain that shot through his body with every step, Peter slowly made his way to the quinjet waiting just outside.

* * *

It did not take long to make it back to the compound. Karen had alerted the doctors and they were waiting in the hanger when the jet landed. They immediately had Tony on a stretcher and headed to where they could help him.

But that left Peter on his own.

The physical pain he was in lingered but the emotional pain born from the realization that Mr. Stark might not survive became more pronounced and Peter leaned back against the side of the jet, watching the stretcher roll away. As soon as it was out of his sight he slid to the ground, tucked his knees to his chest, and cried into his crossed arms.

Then the sight of the man's destroyed face crowded its way into his mind's eye and Peter lurched to the side as he vomited everything he could from his stomach. Tears mixed with spit as he sobbed on the floor of the quinjet, desperate for something to latch on to but not able to find anything.

* * *

That was how Happy found him an hour later.

"Peter?" The voice he had heard so many times on the answering machine was instantly recognizable and Spider-Man shakily sat up to address his visitor. But he did not say anything, could not say anything.

"They just told me it was you that brought Tony in, I'm so sorry I did not come out here sooner." There was actual guilt in his tone as he took in the bruised and battered teenager before him. "You look like you need to see a doctor too, kid." Happy leaned down and looped his arm around Peter's back, forcing the nearly limp kid to stand. When he did, Happy looked at him with badly veiled worry.

It took him a second but Peter fixed his eyes on Happy's face, with only one question in mind, "How is Mr. Stark?"

The worry only grew with a frown as Happy answered, "I don't know. He's not out of surgery yet, kid. I'm sorry."

Peter's eyes welled up and Happy through his arm over his shoulder, half leading, half carrying him out of the plane and into the medical wing where someone could look him over while he waited to hear about his mentor.

* * *

 **So there you go. Hopefully you enjoyed the first chapter and I will be updating soon!**

 **I hope everyone has a wonderful day!**

 **-Lily**


	2. Chapter 2

**So here is the second chapter, I'm thinking there will be two more after this so thank you so much for everyone who has continued reading!**

 **I hope you enjoy it** **!**

* * *

The medical wing of the complex was never a place anyone wanted to be, a lot like a real hospital. Its walls were more than eggshell white and the nurses and doctors were familiar with each Avenger so they received the best treatment but it still was a shitty place to be. None of that escaped Peter's mind as he sat awkwardly on one of the beds while the doctor poked and prodded him. His cheek was broken. The deep bruises where the bo staff had cracked his ribs would heal in a few days and the black eyes and various contusions he did not even realize he had, would take a few more. But Peter barely heard any of it. He dutifully sat with his hands clasped, so tight in his lap that his knuckles were white, and listened to the doctor but his thoughts a few hundred feet away. Thankfully, Happy had not left his side since he had brought him in and was listening to the doctor for him.

"Peter, you should try to get some sleep. You'll be alright in your own room tonight just make sure to stop by tomorrow to get checked out again or I'll be here all night if you need anything sooner." The doctor's voice was kind as she said it and Peter managed to drag his tired eyes up to her face, nodding gently and whispering a soft thank you.

Realizing Peter was not really listening, th doctor looked over at Happy, "Mr. Hogan, can you help him to his room?"

Happy started to nod when a sudden shout of "Wait!" stopped him.

Peter was ramrod straight in the bed, almost like he had just woken up, and he quickly added, "I don't want to go to my room yet." He felt a wave of panic wash over him as his gaze darted between the two adults in the room, "I want to know how Mr. Stark is doing."

The doctor was a bit caught of guard by his sudden energy and stuttered her response, "I – I can find out for you. Give me a few moments." And she disappeared out of the room, again leaving Happy and Peter sitting silently.

Peter was twisting his fingers together, desperate for an answer when the creaking door announced the doctor's reappearance and demanded his full attention. Her voice was sad when she gave him the answer, "I'm sorry Peter but he's not out of surgery yet, I can't tell you how he's doing."

His posture deflated a bit as he asked, "Can I stay here until he does?"

"You can…" she answered hesitantly, "but I would imagine your room would be more comfortable."

He just shook his head in the negative, "I would rather wait."

Realizing she was not going to win the argument, she looked over at Happy, "Mr. Hogan, would you be able to stay with him for a while." She knew he was not going to be awake long and if he wanted answers, he needed someone there to give them.

Happy agreed with none of his normal annoyance, settling into the chair he had already taken over in the corner of the room. The doctor looked less than pleased but did not press the issue and instead went to let the attending know that Peter wanted to know about how Mr. Stark was doing, she knew he would know what that meant.

As soon at the doctor closed the door softly behind her, it did not take long for Peter to fall asleep. He tried to fight it, tried to stay awake but he was just so tired.

* * *

It only felt like fifteen minutes had gone by when he woke to someone shaking his arm. Groaning into consciousness, Peter mumbled at the arm, trying to get it to stop making him sick. Only after the shaking stopped, did he wink an eye open to see Happy staring down at him and another man that Peter did not recognize standing over his shoulder. As he opened his eyes farther, Peter recognized the doctor's scrubs the man was wearing and he remembered exactly why he was asleep on a hospital bed. He shot up, barely registering the pain from any of his numerous injuries, and asked the only thing he cared about, "Is he okay?"

The doctor nodded but it was stilted, "He's okay for now, but I need you to know that Mr. Stark is still in critical condition. It's good you got him here when you did, Peter."

Peter could feel the tears welling in his eyes again and he knew his face had crumpled even though he did not want it to.

The doctor noticed and quickly tacked on the last of his diagnosis, "I have to tell you that I am optimistic that he will make it. We were able to repair most of the damage and while it will take time to heal, he has a good chance of surviving." Then he turned his well practiced gaze onto the battered teenager. Squinting a bit he gave some more medical advice, "Peter, you really should get some sleep in your own room."

Peter was not really listening though, his mind was still trying to wrap itself around the not quite positive response he had gotten, "Can I go see him?" His voice was so quiet and he felt hate burning on the back of his tongue at how pathetic he sounded.

"I'm sorry I can't let you right now, we're getting him set up in a room and you can see him tomorrow," the doctor's voice held very little room for argument but the sliver of opportunity he gave was room Peter was willing to work with.

Pleading with the doctor, he tried to get his way, "Please, just let me see him. I won't stay."

"Not tonight Peter. I'm telling you that you need to get rest or you will end up hurting yourself and I can guarantee you, Tony Stark would have my job if I allowed that to happen." The man's eyes were hard and when he refused to back down, even to Peter's pleas, the kid relented, he was just too tired to argue.

When Peter did not carry the argument any farther, the doctor looked to Happy, "Mr. Hogan, could you please take Peter to his room? I do not want to see him in the medical wing until tomorrow."

Happy scowled at being told what to do but did not argue, instead helping Peter off the bed and out of the wing. His room was not really that far away but it took far longer than it should have. Peter managed to walk more or less on his own but Happy hovered just at his elbow incase he was not able to make it. It was slow, but they made it and standing outside the door, Happy finally spoke, "Kid, are you going to be okay? I can stay if you want."

Peter just wanted to be left alone. There had been a weight that had been sitting on his chest since he had woken up and he could feel it was slowly crushing him, he just wanted to sleep. Still he could not tell Happy any of that, "I think I'm okay Happy, thanks. I'm just really tired and I'm going to try to get some sleep." Peter pressed the door open and stepped through the threshold before trying to smile at Happy. It ended up as more of a grimace but Happy did not press the issue as Peter quickly shut the door feeling worse than he ever had.

He shuffled over to the bed and collapsed on the soft dark blue cover as the tears he had not realized he had been holding back overwhelmed him. Peter curled the sheets in his hands, feeling the material twist and give under his fingers, and sobbed until his chest hurt and his tears soaked the sheets. He found himself wishing for a comforting word or calm hand to make it a little easier. But they never came and instead he sobbed until he passed out.

* * *

 _"No! Please no, come back!" He screamed as Mr. Stark's chest rattled to a stop while that man's laughter rolled and built in the background like a wave coming to shore. The laughing rolled over him as he sobbed and the pain and fear turned into wrath and horror, the feeling terrified him but he could feel himself acting with it. He clawed at his ears with hands bloody from Mr. Stark's wounds but the laughter would not stop. Then he was in front of that man again, pummeling him. Feeling the bones break under his hands as he landed punch after punch on the unprotected head. Then when the bloodlust had been satiated and the laughter finally stopped, he looked down to an unbroken, but clearly dead, face he knew well. "Uncle Ben?" He whispered before whipping back to look at the body of Mr. Stark on the ground. Peter looked between the both of them before stumbling back into a wall slick with blood. He started to scream again…_

Peter bolted up in his bed, his heart trying to thrum out of his chest and his breath trying desperately to strangle him. He twisted in the plush sheets as they constrained him, suddenly feeling more uncomfortable than even the thinnest, scratchiest sheets he had ever owned. His senses slowly adjusted as he desperately tried to get a handle on his spinning head.

As soon as he got a slight inkling of where he was, images of everything that happened slammed into him, nearly splitting his head in two. He dug his fingers into his hair and felt the sobs rising in his throat but this time there was no comforting hand on his shoulder, no soft words to focus his pain. Instead he was left in his room, writhing in his bed and trying to breathe through the stranglehold Mr. Stark's death had on his mind. The hiccups sped up, his breath coming in inconsistent, shallow gasps, not helped in the least that he was still trying to warn, or beg, someone who was not there.

Then suddenly, there was a hand on his arm and a quiet voice managed to break through the inescapable, terrifying panic slowing grinding him down, "Peter…Peter…you need to breathe." The voice was vaguely familiar but he was so far into his own nightmares that figuring out why was outside of his ability so he closed his eyes tighter and dug his fingers into his scalp so hard he could feel slick wetness prick at the pads. But once his oxygen starved brain realized that wetness was blood, he was instantly transported back to the warehouse watching Mr. Stark bleed to death under his hands and…what came after.

"Peter!" Whoever was talking to him was not going away but the voice became more insistent and hands were pressing on his arms, pulling at them, "Peter, please you have to listen to me. You need to stop."

Then he heard the panicked voice turn away from him before there was someone on his other side, a second set of hands. A soft cadence joined the other voice, just like before he recognized it but could not place it, "Peter, you need to move your hands. You're going to hurt yourself." He wanted to listen, wanted to obey but the pain helped to stop the memories and he dug in farther. Then he felt the arms dragging at one of his hands and it started to move from his head. Peter tried to be stronger but the lack of oxygen was starting to affect him, he was hyperventilating and in his weakness, his hand slowly started to move. As soon as the voices pulled one hand away, the other was not far behind and Peter found himself still sobbing but without the protection of his arms over his eyes. He was forced to put faces to the voices. There still were no names that he could latch onto but at least Peter _knew_ he could trust them.

Bruce was busy fighting with his arms but Natasha was staring at him. He locked onto her eyes and held on with every bit of determination he had left. He was still trying desperately to drag air into his lungs but having another person to cling to was helping a bit. Natasha held his gaze and then she laid one of her hands on his chest and ordered, "Slow down your breathing, Peter." Her voice was harsh but her eyes held a warmth that he urgently needed. As she ordered him to do that, she deliberately exaggerated her own breathing deeply, tapping on his chest as she took a breath in and then again as she slowly let it out. While she did that, she held his gaze with a steely determination. Bruce sat next to him on the bed, holding his arms at his sides and massaging the muscles in his wrists, trying to get him to loosen the fists his hands had curled into. The tears continued to course down his cheeks but the shallow gasps that had been making it through his sobs were deepening into breaths as Natasha continued her ministrations.

Peter could feel himself calming down and the names slowly worked into their way into his muddled brain. Dr. Banner and Ms. Romanoff. That was who was helping him. Slowly he unclenched his hands and steadied his breathing, he could feel his heartbeat slowing down to the point where the organ was not trying to escape his chest anymore. When he finally was able to pull himself completely out of the dream, he looked away from Ms. Romanoff's eyes, embarrassment suddenly replacing the panic he had felt.

"Don't." She ordered suddenly, laying her hand on Peter's chin and pulling his eyes back up to hers, "Don't do that." He could not help but nod into her hand, understanding exactly what she was trying to tell him. The soft look in her eyes returned when he nodded, and she added, "Good," before smiling and releasing his chin. Then she looked over Peter's head to Bruce.

"Peter," Bruce started and then paused, unsure exactly what he was going to or ask the kid. Still Peter had turned to look at him so he figured he should say something, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Peter definitely did not want to talk about his dream, he was not even completely sure if he understood what it was but he knew he did not want to vocalize anything he remembered of it. So he shook his head. But there was one thing he wanted an answer to, "How is Mr. Stark?" His voice was quiet and would have been inaudible in any other situation but given their focus, it rang out like a bell.

Bruce could not help but sigh when Peter shook his head, of course he would not want to talk about it. So he did not press him but then Peter asked about Tony and he easily made the connection, "He's doing okay, Peter. He's not out of the woods yet but he's alive." Bruce laid his hand on the kid's back and rubbed a few soothing circles to keep him grounded when he said it. Happy had told him what he knew when Bruce had gone to investigate the commotion in the medical wing. Bruce knew Peter had brought Tony back to the complex and that Tony was not doing the greatest but his doctors were mostly optimistic. Peter had been told all of this but rational thought rarely accompanies nightmares.

Peter took in a shuttering breath, "Thank you Dr. Banner, Ms. Romanoff. I'm sorry if I woke you but I…tha-thank you."

Bruce spoke up, "You don't have to thank us Peter. I'm just glad we were able to help." He looked over Peter's head again as Natasha almost imperceptivity nodded down at the still agitated kid and he continued, "Peter, do you want Nat and I to stay with you for a bit?"

Peter seriously considered the offer but did not want to be a burden, "I'll be alright. I think I'm going to take a walk for a bit, try to clear my head."

Bruce, for a second, thought about ordering Peter to let them stay but thought better of it. He did not know what Peter did to deal with his nightmares and figured now was not the time to start telling him what he should do. Instead, he sighed and laid his hand back on Peter's shoulder, "We're just down the hall if you need anything, please don't worry about asking for help." Peter sat calmly and when he met Bruce's eye, the doctor saw exactly why Tony was so proud of this kid.

Peter was genuinely touched by Dr. Banner's offer and he said as much, trying desperately to convey just how thankful he was for the compassion they were showing him, "Thank you for saying that Dr. Banner, I really appreciate you offering, but...but I think I need to move around right now."

"If you're sure Peter. Just remember what I said." Bruce told him before standing and stepping toward the door, waiting for Natasha to do the same.

Peter watched Ms. Romanoff gracefully slide off the bed and headed toward the door, her quiet confidence a comfort. They gave him one last look before they closed his door behind them. Frustration at the nightmare bubbled up inside him as the door snapped shut and he fell back into his pillow, willing the tears not to start falling again. He was just so tired and worried. And weak. Sprawled back on his bed and trying to figure out how he was going to fall asleep, another thought came to his mind, "FRIDAY, are you there?"

Peter was not sure why he expected any different but he still jumped a little when the Irish AI quietly answered his question. The voice was a comfort he did not even know he needed and he could not help but smile.

"Of course I am, Peter, what can I do for you?"

She was kind like Karen and Peter suddenly had the urge to put his mask on but instead, he focused on FRIDAY's voice, asking, "What room is Mr. Stark in?"

Her voice only paused for a moment before she answered, "He's in room 14 in the medical wing. Would you like me to show you how to get there?"

A solution solidified in his mind, "No I think I'll be able to find it. Thank you FRIDAY."

"You're welcome, Peter."

Sliding out of the bed, Peter pulled an old hoodie off the chair next to his desk and set off to find room 14. The doctor might have been trying to protect his job but no one could blame him if Peter found out on his own.

* * *

 **Well that's it for now! I hope you enjoyed and I will try to get the last couple of chapters up as soon as I can. I hope everyone has a good day!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's another chapter for all you lovely readers!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

It was late when Pepper finally made it back to the Avenger's complex. Three days. It had been three days since she had found out what had happened to Tony and she was finally able to get back to him. She had cursed her position from the moment she found out but the rational part of her, the part that she currently hated, reminded her that she could not just blow off everything, so she had done her job and stayed. Happy had been sending her continuous updates on Tony's condition and it had done nothing but make her more anxious. By the time she had gotten on the plane to come home, her stomach was tied in knots and all she wanted to do was sleep but she was so wired she knew there was no way that would happen until she saw him. And she was back now. Her assistant had cancelled everything for the next few days, and she was not opposed to making that longer, as she resolved to spend all of them intermittently begging Tony to wake up and yelling at him for being so stupid. Her thoughts were twisting around what she would find when she finally made it to his room and even the most basic thing she could come up with sickened her. Fortifying her resolve, she continued to the med wing.

Moving as quietly as she could through the darkened hallway she found Tony's room. Pressing down on the handle, she took a deep breath to keep from hyperventilating and quietly cracked the door open. The room was dark, the only light was given off by the machines that were keeping Tony alive. She was tempted to turn on the lights but something in her told her to leave them off, and a small part of her mind told her it was because then she could imagine Tony was just asleep, not beaten, battered, and in a coma. So she resisted the urge and instead stepped up to the bed, the tears starting to fall as she looked at the bruises that darkened his face, visible even in the dim light. Running her hand along the rail on the bed, she followed the curve to the chair she could see through her watery eyes, resolving to sit by his bed for the rest of the night. Taking a step back, she started to fall into the seat she knew would be there when something shot out from behind her.

Pepper spun and nearly fell back into the bed, only catching herself on the rail, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to figure out what the hell was going on. That was when a figure appeared in front of her, hanging upside-down from the ceiling. In her panic, it took her a second to figure out who it was but as soon as she calmed down a bit, she squinted into the shadows, "Peter?"

"Ms. Potts?"

His voice was husky, deeper than it normally was and when she reached out to touch his arm, he was shaking. As soon as she made contact, the teenager dropped down from the webbing, landing easily in front of her. She could barely see his face but was guessing from the sound of his voice that he had been crying, "How long have you been here?"

He stood back from her, looking passed her at the bed, "I…uh…I was the one who fo-found him."

She knew that but it did not answer her question so she quietly repeated herself, "Honey, how long have you been _here_?" She stressed the location.

He finally stuttered an answer, "I – um – three days. I…think."

"You haven't left since you brought him in?" She knew the answer before she even asked it.

The teenager just shook his head in the negative. She could tell he was tired just in the way he was holding himself, his shoulders were hunched forward, his head dropped lower than she had ever seen it. When Pepper did not respond to his answer right away, Peter filled in the silence, "I'm sorry, Ms. Potts. I tried to save him. I did. I just…I wasn't quick enough. If I had been…"

Tony had always told her that the kid needed to have more confidence and hearing him talk after knowing what Peter had done to get Tony to where he could get help, she understood what her fiancé was always saying. She needed to stop this now, or Tony would never forgive her, "Peter, please stop." It was almost as if she had slapped him, he stopped as soon as she spoke and for a split second, she felt guilty but she needed him to realize what he had done. She started quietly, not wanting to scare him but she was so emotionally raw, she could not help the passion that worked its way in, "Happy explained everything to me, I know what you did. And I need you to understand, for Tony's sake, that you saved his life. Without you, he would have been dead so please do not apologize for not being there sooner. Without you, I would be planning a fune-" she stumbled on the word, knowing just how true it could have been, "funeral right now, not waiting by a bed for Tony to wake up." When Peter started to sniffle, she could not help going a little farther, "Peter, Tony is incredibly proud of you. What you did just proves that his pride is not misplaced."

Peter lifted his head a little higher when he heard that but Pepper also heard the telltale sounds of crying as the silhouette's shoulders started to shake. Feeling her heart break for the teenager in front of her, she took a step forward and laid her hands on his shoulders, as they started to shudder harder. She felt him wrap his arms around his chest, like he was trying to hug away the pain but he did not step toward her. Pepper kept her distance, not wanting to scare him, "Peter, honey, I think we should get you to your room."

"No!" He yelled, jumping away from her and landing on the back of the chair. His reaction scared her and she involuntarily took a step backward. Recovering quickly, she stepped toward him, arms held out in front of her, "Why not, Peter? You would be more comfortable…"

His quickly blurted answer stopped her, "I can't. I can't leave. I need to stay here." He was frantic, his head turning like he was afraid he would need a way to get away from her.

"Okay. Okay, Peter, I'm sorry. I didn't realize. Please come off the chair, I won't make you leave. I promise." She dropped her voice and tried to be reassuring, trying to get her fiancé's son calm enough to trust her.

He stayed for a moment more before slipping back down in front of her but he held himself back enough so he could jump away at any time, "You promise you won't make me leave."

"Not if you don't want to. But if you're going to stay in here, you should probably have a few blankets or something." She looked around the room, realizing she could not see anything. Calling out, "FRIDAY, can you turn the lights on the lowest setting?"

"Of course, Ms. Potts."

The calming voice that Peter always associated with Tony's suit intoned over the speakers, and made his stomach twist into tighter knots than what he had been dealing with for the last few days. He could feel the bile rising up the back of his throat and he barely managed to keep from being sick. He did not want to see Mr. Stark again, it just made him remember how badly he had failed.

As the lights came up, Pepper was finally able to see Tony lying in the bed, his broken nose, while set, was still swollen and purple while both eyes were nearly black. He had a deep cut above his eye that had been stitched closed and the swelling of his cheek indicated the shattered bone. Running through his other injuries, she moved her eyes to his arms, seeing the cast that rose up to his shoulder and the brace on his other wrist. Knowing that still more injuries were obscured by the blanket, she sighed and turned to take care of the teenager sniffling behind her. But she looked up only to see nearly the same treatment given to the boy. She could not hold back her gut reaction when she saw him, "Oh god…Peter." He was sporting his own double black eye and while his nose did not look broken, his cheek definitely did. There was a lightening ring around his neck where she assumed hands had been laid at one point. His wrist was bandaged and given he was favoring one side, he had taken a few hits to the chest. His hair stuck up at a odd angles, probably because he had been living in a chair for the last few days. And again, she could not help it as her heart shattered a little more at the sight of him. She unconsciously moved closer, laying her hand on his uninjured cheek as she gently turned his head from side to side, "Did they do this to you?"

He nodded slowly, still a little unsure of what Pepper was going to ask him to do. Instead of saying anything else, she just shook her head sadly and stepped over to the closet to grab a few blankets for the both of them. Blankets secured, she moved over to where Peter was still standing and handed him one. He took it hesitantly but stayed standing until she gestured to the chair he had been in when she had arrived. He obliged, curling back up the same way, she assumed, he was before she tried to sit down. Curled up, he stared at Tony's sleeping form, his head resting on his arm.

Pepper needed to understand, "Peter," she called and waited as he lethargically turned his head toward her. His eyes were hooded and glistened with unshed tears but still, he looked at her. "Peter, why have you stayed in here for three days? You have a room, you could stay there and come here during the day."

His answer was honest and determined, "He didn't leave me."

"Oh honey," she wanted to reach out again, to do something to comfort this kid who was obviously distraught but she did not know what to say. She knew what the reports had told her, that if Tony did wake up, there was a chance he would be different, that he would not remember chunks of time. Or he could wake up completely fine, save a few lapses in memory and a long period of physical therapy. Either way, it was going to take time. And for some reason, she was imagining Peter sitting by his side for the entirety. With those thoughts swirling in her mind, she gave a half-hearted reason that she knew would not work, "Peter, Tony would want you to take care of yourself."

But the kid was not listening any more, he was staring at Tony again, his eyes drooping as his head rested on his arm and the blanket wrapped around his form. Pepper could not help but send up a short prayer for both of them. She watched as Peter fell asleep not long after that and she followed him soon after.

* * *

It was another four days before Tony started to claw his way back, he was not awake but he was improving, coming closer to waking up. The doctors had told Pepper this was a good sign but when she had told Peter, the kid had done little more than grimace before he went back to staring at Tony. The concern that had festered since she first found him in the room had finally reached the point where she could not wait for him to say something about it, there was something else going on. It was obvious Peter was not going to talk to her, so Pepper went to find Happy. Thankfully, he was not hard to find, having taken up residence outside of the room. She sat down next to him.

Bluntly getting to the point she asked, "Happy, what's going on with Peter?"

The head of security sighed tiredly before answering, "To be honest, I don't really know. I know that he's the one who found Tony and brought him here but outside of that, I'm not sure why he's acting the way he is. I've tried talking to him but he's not been forthcoming." His answer hung in the air only to be picked up again by a new voice.

"He's having nightmares again." Natasha appeared before them, shrugging as she explained her appearance to the startled pair, "I wanted to see how Stark was doing."

But Pepper was focused on what she had said about Peter, confusion in her answer, "He's been sleeping fine. I've been in there with him the last few days. He moves in his sleep but he hasn't been waking up or talking."

Natasha shrugged before answering, "Well then Stark has something to do with the nightmares and being in the room helps. But the first night he was here, Bruce and I had to stop him from tearing his own hair out. I know Bruce has tried talking to him since but he hasn't said much. Did something else happen?"

That Happy could answer, "I was down at the warehouse as the police were finishing their investigation but nothing was particularly strange about it, minus the spider webs of course. The only thing I remember was the detective on the scene was surprised more people weren't dead."

A lull passed between the small group as they contemplated the youngest member of the Avengers. Until Pepper broke it, "Is there anyone else he'll talk to about the nightmares? I know he usually talks to Tony but…" She trailed off, the implication clear.

"Cap won't be back for a few more days and he did not seem to want to talk to Bruce the other night, I could try asking him." Natasha offered, she had dealt with enough of her own demons, she could try to take on a few of the kid's. Then she continued, a deadly serious inflection in her voice, "He needs help dealing with something that happened. If he doesn't, it's going to get worse before it gets better."

* * *

The first thing he heard was an incessant beeping noise that poked at him the way a particularly annoying bug buzzes around its target's ears. He tried to get his brain to focus, to take in anything other than that beeping but it would not. Instead flashes of memories assaulted his mind, none of them made sense and all of them dragged him out of the blissfully calm floating he realized he had been in. The images did not make sense, they defied time and cohesion, ending up as a cacophony of lights and sounds that his foggy brain could not even begin to decipher. As the images assaulted his mind, he tried to make them stop but he had no control. Begging his mind to figure out something and bring his hand up to his temple, he felt his chest seize with panic when his arm did not respond. The panic sharpened the haze and forced him to focus on his body instead. As he did, a significant amount of pain slid through his memory-muddled mind, freezing everything, both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because the image in his head froze, finally ending the flashing and it was not a particularly terrible memory. It was Pepper's face when Peter turned down the Avengers the first time. But it was a curse because the mess of his head was apparently keeping the pain at bay and as soon as that image froze, he realized he was not in a good way. His body was heavy and his chest was tight like someone had laid Thor's hammer on it and left it there. Moving anything was not happening and he tried to force his eyes open but they were not responding either. His eyelids felt like lead. So he huffed his frustration to himself and focused on the one thing that seemed to be working, his hearing. As he pressed the pain that was quickly making itself known from his mind, he focused on the sounds in the room. His mind started to clear enough for him to register more than just the beeping and he zoned in on a soft snoring noise somewhere to his right. Still trying to fight off the last of the lead, Tony turned his head to the right side with a monumental effort. The snoring got a bit louder when he did and he tried again to force his eyes open. It still did not work but he could feel himself slowly taking back control of his body. The snoring did not change so Tony assumed whoever it was, probably Pepper or the kid, did not register him moving. After what felt like a lifetime, trapped in the ever growing painful shell that had apparently become his body Tony finally managed to wink an unfocused eye open. As soon as he did, there was a garbled voice that called out in the background, some quiet part of his mind told him it was FRIDAY but he was too focused on getting his eyes open to actually place it.

Pepper woke up to FRIDAY's announcement, "Ms. Potts, Mr. Parker, Mr. Stark seems to be waking up." It took a second to work its way through her mind but she finally took the AI's meaning.

"Tony!" She demanded, jumping up from the chair and leaning over the rail trying to get as close as she could.

His eyes were partially open but he was not focused. He seemed to know her though because as soon as she called his name, he turned his head up slightly toward her, "Pep?" He rasped. He could hear her worry in her tone and it made him feel guilty but he was having a hard time wrapping his head around why, he was still trying to force his eyes to focus. Then he heard her say something behind her but he could not make out what it was.

Excitement and relief drove her now and Pepper turned around to the teenager behind her, "Peter! Peter, wake up." As soon as the teenager started to wake, she turned back to Tony, gently laying her hand on the side of his face, "Tony, please open your eyes, focus."

Tony felt something soft on the side of his face. It felt nice and he turned his head farther into that feeling when he heard Pepper's insistent voice. This time he understood what she was saying but he eyes were not quite there yet, he was still fighting with his senses. Nearly there.

Pepper could see his fight as the frown deepened on his face and his eyes continued to flutter. He had pressed against her hand so he definitely knew she was there. For a moment, she wondered why Peter had not appeared at her side yet and she chanced a glance behind her. The teenager was still there but he almost looked frozen. He was staring wide-eyed at Tony with a sick expression on his face. But Pepper did not have time to figure out why because Tony groaned again, demanding her attention, "That's it Tony, just focus on me."

With that encouragement, Tony managed to force his eyes open and focused on Pepper, "Pep?" He asked again, only this time he had managed to focus on her beautiful face.

"It's me, Tony. I'm here." She was close to tears as she whispered under her breath, "Oh thank god." She turned around to look at Peter again but when she did, he was not there. She heard some insistent calls in the hallway but was too distracted to really comprehend what it was.

Tony seemed to focus a bit more, as he relaxed into the pillows, "Hey Pep."

"Hey yourself," she answered before helping him drink some of the water on the tray near the bed.

The coolness helped him to focus a bit more clearly and he saw how tired and worn down she looked. That guilt he had felt before coalesced into something he could understand and he managed to squeak out, "'kay?"

She smiled at him, the gesture erasing some of the tiredness, "I am now." She whispered, rubbing her thumb across his cheek.

He weakly smiled back up at her but could not fight the tiredness pulling at his own eyes. It did not take long before he surrendered, closing his eyes again but still fighting to stay a bit more awake. Then he remembered something about when he was waking up, there had been another sound in the room. Forcing his eyes open again, Tony lazily scanned the room, "Pep?" He started, fighting the scratchiness of his throat. Swallowing hard, he tried to continue, "was someone here? …heard snoring, you don't snore." Unfortunately, he could not wait for an answer as his eyes fell closed again but he was still listening, breath hitching slightly as Pepper paused in an answer.

Pepper was again pulled back to the fact that Peter had left without an explanation, still she could not lie to him, "Peter was in here but he left."

Tony hummed his apparent understanding but Pepper was not sure of how much he actually got of that, his eyes were closed again and he seemed like he was quickly falling back to sleep.

Then he whispered, "why?" But he was not able to open his eyes and even though he did not want to, he fell back into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 **So Tony is finally awake but Peter is gone. One more chapter to go!**

 **I hope everyone has a wonderful day!**


	4. Chapter 4

**This will be the last chapter. Thank you guys so much for the follows and the favorites and I hope you like how this ends!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Tony slowly recovered.

Each time he woke up, he was hit with the stiff feeling of knowing he had gotten his ass handed to him. And even that took him a few wakeful bouts to remember in snippets. The pain killers the doctors had him on were doing the trick though and most of the pain he knew he should be feeling, given the multiple casts and bandages he could see, was not present. At some point he found out that he had been unconscious for a little more than two weeks and many of his lesser injuries had started to heal but the casts would need to stay on for at least four more weeks and he had been warned it might even a few more beyond that. That was about all he got before he fell back to sleep.

He slept a lot. Each time he forced himself into consciousness someone would be sitting by his bed. Sometimes it was Bruce. Other times it was Cap. And once or twice it was even Natasha. Pepper was there by far more than anyone else and at one point, when he was feeling more lucid, he asked her about the one person he expected to see, "Pep, have you seen Pete?"

She had been reading a report on something when he spoke, his croaky voice causing her to jump slightly before she grabbed the water by the bed and helped him drink. When he had a few sips, she set the water down and could not keep the frown off her face, "I haven't seen Peter since you woke up the first time, no one has. Bruce even tried calling him a few times but he hasn't answered."

Tony heard the heart rate monitor speed up slightly as the panic at what that could mean flashed in his mind.

Pepper seemed to know what he was thinking though because she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, "He's fine Tony. He's still be doing his Spider-man thing, we've seen him on the news and Happy has been watching his tracker. He's okay, he just not talking to us for some reason…" She trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air as her mind wandered back to the nightmares she knew he was having.

"What's wrong, Pep?" Tony felt a second wave of energy hit him and for the first time in what seemed like weeks, his mind felt clear enough to continue talking.

"It's nothing Tony." She gave him a soft smile, "I'm just worried about the two of you."

Tony hummed at that, his mind going back to the kid, there was not much that could have driven him away so Tony selfishly or knowingly, he was not sure which, wondered what he had done. Then a thought occurred to him, "How long have I been in and out like this?"

She gave him a tired smile, "Nearly two weeks." Pepper looked like she wanted to continue but then thought better of it.

Tony caught her hesitation, "What is it Pepper?"

"I'm just glad Peter found you when he did." She had tears in her eyes but she covered them with a small smile, "But the doctors said you should be able to be up and moving around in the next couple of days."

Tony could not help the guilt that rose in his chest at the pain he had caused her, again. But the idea of finally getting out of this bed and maybe talking to the kid was a welcome one, "Can I have my phone?" Maybe Pete would answer his calls, if nothing else they would be more difficult to ignore if Karen answered them.

* * *

His side hurt when he finally got on top of the roof. Normally he would have blocked that knife but he had just been too distracted to see it and the mugger had gotten it through his guard. Laying his hand across his side, he pulled the glove back to see blood on the fabric. Instantly, his mind threw him back to the man he had killed and the way his blood had stained his suit for what felt like the better part of a week. Feeling the nausea roll through his stomach, Peter sat down heavily to center himself. He told himself that Mr. Stark was alive and his Aunt was safe because of what he had done. It made him feel a little better but then he reminded himself that he was justifying murder. Grunting, he dropped back onto his back and felt at the wound again. It was shallow as far as knife wounds went and it was already starting to feel better. The bruises from the bank robbers, they were going to take a little more time to heal. The stitch in his side forced him to lay flat and slow down his breathing to the point where the pain ebbed a bit. He laid on the roof for a while trying to catch his breath and desperately trying to keep from thinking. The problem was that when he was tired, it was harder to keep the thoughts out and he had not slept well since the incident. His thoughts were a smattering of things but most of them rotated back to the man who had tried to kill Mr. Stark. He shifted involuntarily as his battered legs started to ache and the pain forced his thoughts to solidify. He could feel the tears pricking at his eyes again and he could not help keep the memories out.

Tony had woken up and Peter had been there. Had been in the room as he groaned into the world of consciousness. Had even watched him open his unfocused eyes for the first time since the kid had found him and in that moment, what Peter had done to get him there coalesced. All the blood and the pain and the fear slammed into him and he could do nothing else but run. He bolted out of the room. He remembered Bruce yelling for him and Cap trying to catch him, but he ignored them. He escaped the complex and slung a web the first chance he got, knowing they would not be able to follow him quick enough, not when they were busy with making sure Tony was okay.

As the kid lay on the rooftop, twisting his mind over the events he flashed back to the blood and the pain again, watched himself pummel that man's face into a gory, dead pulp and not feel guilty about it. He was broken, finally broken. He had done the one thing he had always swore he was never going to do and he did not regret it. The longer Peter laid on that roof the more solid that thought became. In every iteration of that event, in every one of the fourteen billion options, Peter would have killed that man for what he did. He would have killed him because he threatened to take away the closest thing to a dad he had left. Peter could never have let that happen. But in doing that, in protecting his dad, he had proven himself to be broken and a boy as broken as him did not deserve to have a father in his life.

So he laid on the roof, tears tracking down his cheeks and into his ears. He cried as he mourned the loss of another father but he could not keep the slight smile from peaking through at the fact that at least this time. This one time. He had managed to save him. He had managed to save Mr. Stark. The man was alive, and would stay alive, because Peter had killed and that made it all worth it. It did not make it easy but it made the pain survivable.

* * *

Peter was not sure how long he sat on the roof but it was dark by the time he swung away. He absentmindedly tried to remember if he had closed his bedroom door so that he could get away with sneaking back into the apartment without May knowing. Shrugging he realized he would just have to figure it out when he got there.

Softly crawling up the side of the building like he had done a hundred times before, Peter carefully and quietly snuck into his room, sighing when he realized that at least the door was closed. It was late enough that May probably just thought he was asleep. She had been giving him some space after he kind of told her what happened with Mr. Stark. She knew he was still Spider-man but he could not bring himself to tell her much about it. He knew he had been moody and he had tried so hard not to let it affect the way he talked to her but he knew he slipped, often. The worst part was that he could not tell her he had killed someone, he would not survive if he lost her too. And as much as he wanted to tell himself that it would not matter, that she would understand, after what she had been through, he would not blame her if she found out and looked at him differently. Left him. So he just did not say anything. He did not realize his mind was wandering though until he tripped over one of the stacks of books he for some reason kept leaving on the floor. A web kept him upright but the two precariously placed mugs were not so lucky. The clattering was enough to make him flinch, especially when he heard Aunt May's voice from the living room, "Peter? Are you up?"

 _Dammit,_ he cursed his distracted clumsiness. "I'm up, Aunt May."

"Honey, can you come out here for a minute?" Her voice was gentle but loud enough for him to hear.

"Yah, I'll be right out." He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep but knew he should go out. Wincing as he pulled a worn hoodie over his shirt and tugged on a pair of sweatpants, he dragged his door open and turned toward the couch. Then he froze mid-stride. His heart jumped into his throat, "Mr. – Mr. Stark?" He had a flashback to the last time Tony Stark sat on his couch only this time there was serious anxiety building in his stomach.

"Hey, kid." Tony nearly stammered. He was two days out of the med bay and to be honest, he was not sure if he was two days out because they got sick of him or because he really was okay to leave. Either way, as soon as May called, he knew he had to do something. No one at the complex could tell him why he had not seen the kid and there had been a small knot in the pit of his stomach since Bruce told him Peter would not probably not be coming back. Not to mention the fact the kid had been dodging his calls. So when May called, that was what he needed. He figured this was his chance to get this sorted out.

Peter looked Mr. Stark over and his stomach rolled at what he saw. Mr. Stark's cheekbones were still swollen and the black smudges surrounding his eyes had not gone away either. Peter had to swallow the bile that tinged the back of his tongue because he knew the injuries covered by the shirt and jacket haphazardly pulled over his casted arm. And just to make it worse, Mr. Stark stood, good arm draped over a crutch that kept him upright and off his mangled leg.

"Pete, can we talk?" His voice was tired and guilt joined the twirling mass of anxiety when Peter realized some of that was probably his fault.

Peter nodded numbly, unable to say no without giving an explanation. He just turned toward his room.

Tony followed, shooting May a glance of worry and apology before awkwardly shuffling over the threshold and closing the door.

As soon as the door was closed, Tony started, "Pete, what the hell is going on with you? You're yelling at your aunt, being more reckless than normal. You're not answering anyone's calls, not even mine for that matter. I didn't even know that Karen was able to ignore my calls." His hand twitched up on the crutch as he refocused himself, "I haven't seen or heard from you in weeks…" But he trailed off there feeling embarrassment growing at the quick turn from anger to attachment in his voice, sure he loved the kid but he did not need to sound pathetic about it.

The first thing Peter heard was the man's words echoing through his head, _He doesn't care about you._ And Peter was not able to fight it off anymore, he was just so tired and his mind was muddled. Seeing Mr. Stark again threw him off and he responded in quiet, long-simmering pain and anger before being able to stop himself, "Like you care."

But Mr. Stark flinched at his tone, a look ghosting over his face like Peter had slapped him. Swallowing hard at the reaction, Peter was able to reign the anger back in, he knew it was not Mr. Stark's fault and cursed himself for letting that man get to him.

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I shouldn't have said that." He shook his head trying to clear it.

But Tony spoke again, his voice calmer than before, "What's going on, kid?"

Peter looked up at him with watery eyes, "Its just…I can't be at the compound anymore, Mr. Stark. I can't be a superhero. I can help people when I know they need it and I don't want to give up Spider-man but I just…I can't be a superhero."

Tony scrunched his face in confusion, trying to understand what the hell had happened to his kid, still he could not keep the unconvinced and sarcastic response off his tongue, "Kid, that makes no sense. And I'm still on some pretty heavy painkillers."

Peter huffed and slumped down on his bed, well aware that what he said made no sense but he could not un-think it. He was just so tired and sore, and he wanted to go to sleep, why couldn't Mr. Stark understand that?

When he did not say anything, Tony took that as an invitation to sit down next to him and sling his one good arm around the kid's shoulders. Peter flinched at the contact and Tony dropped his arm, using it to lever himself a few inches away from the kid. Disappointment flashing through his mind at the reaction. But he forced himself to focus on Peter. He could see how haggard the kid was. The bags under his eyes were dark enough to make Tony think that someone had punched him and there were a few cuts and bruises across his face, probably a result of his less than focused patrols. Even for the few seconds he had his arm across the kid's shoulders, they were more pronounced, he was thinner than normal, thinner than he should be, especially for his metabolism. His kid was hurting for some reason and Tony needed to know why, needed to understand what was going on in his head so he could help him. He owed Peter at least that, owed him much more but Tony knew they needed to start somewhere. Resting his hand over the cast, Tony looked at him, lowered his voice, and tried again, "Kid. Pete, what's going on with you?"

Finally the dam that Peter had spent more than a month creating shattered into a thousand pieces. He was just so tired, sore, and full of self-loathing that he could not hide it anymore, not when he was faced by the very obviously caring reason why he was now suddenly okay with killing. Well not okay but more okay than he had been. He tried to fight the tears building in his eyes, scrubbed his arm across his face a few times before finally capitulating to the pressure that had been increasing in his mind since the instant his gloved fist broke another man's face into bone-sliver pieces. He felt the tears burn as they started to fall and missing the weight of Mr. Stark's arm, he ground out the one thought he had been dealing with, "I – I'm sorry, Mr. Stark." He sniffled, "I'm so-sorry I'm broken." And finally, all the pressure he had been dealing with collapsed on him and he started to sob.

Tony froze when Peter started to cry but it was more from his admission than anything else. But the freeze did not last long as Tony felt his heart break at whatever the kid was dealing with. He could not help himself as he slung his arm back across the kid's shoulders, only this time he did not flinch away.

The weight of Mr. Stark's arm was a welcome one but Peter did not want to collapse back into the man's arms. He did not deserve it. At the same time, it felt so nice to have someone, _no_ _just_ _Mr. Stark,_ show they cared, even after hearing that. Involuntarily, he wrapped his arms around Mr. Stark's waist and twisted into his shoulder, the same way he had done after his nightmares at the compound. He momentarily froze when the arm around his back tightened, pulling him closer and he heard the Mr. Stark's voice rumble, "Pete, whatever you think you did, you are not broken."

"Yes, I am." Peter sobbed into his mentor's, thankfully functioning, chest.

"No, you're not." Tony argued, adamant that what Peter was saying was not true, unfortunately, his response was colored by his inescapable anger at not being able to fix Peter's pain.

Peter felt him tense when he said it and the irritation in his tone spurred some of Peter's own fury back to the surface. The kid pushed back off Tony's shoulder and slid away from him, off the bed. The tears were still falling but he was not sobbing anymore, the anger that May had warned Tony about, had taken over, "Yes I am!" Peter insisted, _why couldn't Mr. Stark just understand that?_

Tony pressed it though, his own voice rising, "Why? Why do you think that? What could you have done that warranted this?" He gestured furiously with his good arm while silently cursing his own injuries and weakness.

"Because I killed someone!" Peter could not stop it, it fell from his mouth before he could even think to press it back in.

Tony froze. Peter did not kill. Peter could not kill. No one had told him that Peter had killed someone and so his stupidly stuttered response did nothing to defuse the situation,"Wh-what?"

Peter snapped at him, "I killed a man."

"Why?" As soon as the word was passed his lips, Tony nearly bit his own tongue off to end the dumb responses.

But Peter needed that question, needed to voice the reasons why, which he did, loudly, "Because he had just had you beaten within an inch of your life! Because he threatened to kill you! Because he told me that he would just escape and when he did, he was going to keep going after you until he had what he wanted and you were dead! And that when he was done, he would do the same to May!" Peter's hands had curled into fists at his side as he screamed at the one person he needed desperately to understand. Mr. Stark did not say anything though, just sat there staring. And that freaked Peter out, the fact that Mr. Stark had nothing to say meant he was right about being broken, about not being worthy of having anyone care about him. So the kid continued his tirade, "He told me he was going to take you away from me and it terrified me…" Some of the anger deflated as he looked down at his shoes, "I couldn't let it happen, so I stopped him." He shrugged before he met Tony's eye with a steely, scary determination, "And I don't feel guilty about it."

It was so pragmatic, so unlike Peter that the tone alarmed Tony. Still, there was a big part of him that understood exactly what was going through Peter's head, he had dealt with it himself in a not so healthy way the first time he had been confronted with what could be considered murder if the perspectives were flipped. Tony levered himself into a standing position and hobbled toward the kid. As soon as he got within a few feet, he balanced himself and reached out over the crutch carefully in a placating way, but did not touch the kid, "Pete, it's okay. It's going to be okay." He tried to force some his voice into something comforting and calm.

But that was not the right thing to say. Peter scooted back from him a bit more, "No, its not. It's not just going to be okay, Mr. Stark. I did the one thing I swore I was never going to do and I don't feel bad about it, there is no way that can be okay." The ire had boiled away and he sighed instead, resigned to his new self-imposed fate.

Only that angered Tony, it pissed him off that something had made his kid feel like he was not good enough, "Peter, we have all killed someone to protect someone else. You have to accept that, kid."

"No I don't! You did not see your uncle killed in front of you after losing your parents in a plane crash. You don't know what that feels like. To have people who care about you suddenly ripped away when there is nothing you can do about it!" He was shaking, angry at Mr. Stark for not understanding how terrible he was, how terrible the situation was. He had to make him understand. He opened his mouth to speak again when Mr. Stark growled at him.

Tony saw red at that comment and his voice was low but dangerous when he cut the kid off, "I lost my parents. I know how it feels."

Peter started at that, of course he knew that. But he was angry and guilt-ridden so he plowed right through, "Yah well, I promised myself I would not take that away from anyone else and then I did. What if he had a family? What if he had a son? Yah, he was evil but what if because of me, that kid has to deal with the same thing I've dealt with my whole life?" At some point, the anger disappeared and Peter just stood there, hands clenched and tears running down his face, silently and unconsciously begging for the torment to stop.

Tony immediately regretted his comment and tried to apologize for it but he did not know what else to say, he wanted so badly to just hug the kid and tell him that it was alright but that would not help. Instead, as he stood there staring at his shaking, crying kid, a thought wormed its way into his mind, a question that needed to be answered, "Pete, if that's the case, why don't you feel guilty about killing him?"

Peter looked at him, the weight of the world apparent in his eyes. He knew the answer to the question but was wrestling with how you tell someone you love them without knowing if it was reciprocated. Peter knew Tony cared about him, that was obvious, but there was a difference between caring about someone and being their father. Swallowing hard, Peter answered because he was so tired and he just wanted Tony to leave, but the answer was quieter and more fatalistic than he wanted, "I couldn't lose another dad." He scrunched his face at the explanation, hating how weak it sounded but it was true so he continued, "It was okay once I knew you were going to be survive because that made what I did worth it but it also made it hard to face what I had done. It made it hard to face you. I told you, Mr. Stark, I'm broken." Tears started to track down his face again as he looked at Tony but he did not sob, just stood there, shoulders back as if he was bracing for Tony to leave.

"Peter…" But then he paused, not for the first time with this kid, he had nothing to say. No quip, no joke, not even an "I'm sorry kid but I really appreciate you saving my life", nothing. His heart had seized when Peter said "dad", it had been unspoken for so long that to hear it wrenched out of him right now, it just felt so wrong. So he stood there in silence, the kid's name hanging in the air like a whispered condemnation. And Peter noticed, of course he did.

"See you can't even think of anything to say," he snapped, the anger inflating again as a defense against the rejection he was seeing. Rejection of what he had just shared.

Unfortunately for a man who never really learned how to deal with emotions, that pissed Tony off, again, "What do you want me to tell you, kid? You made a choice. I'm personally, selfishly glad you made the one you did because, you know, I'm still breathing." He _knew_ flippant was not the right way to go, knew it, but he could not help it.

And as soon as Peter fixed him with a odd look of crestfallen and pissed, he sighed heavily and desperately tried to walk it back, "Look Peter, all I'm trying so horribly to say is that I'm sorry." _Yah, that was a good start_. "I'm sorry you had to make that choice. And I am incredibly, irrevocably sorry that you had to make it because of me. But damn kid, I need you to know that if it had been you, if I had found them beating you like that, I would have blown them all to hell and brought them back to do it again." So maybe the ending needed some work but Tony needed Peter to _know_ what he would have done was so much worse.

Peter was not sure why but it made him feel a little better to hear that, it did not make it okay but it was comforting to know that at least he was not completely off base and the honesty in Tony's tone went a long way. But that did not change the fact that Tony would leave, Peter was still broken. _But at least he would be able to walk away_ , the small voice in the back of his head that sounded kind of like Karen piped up.

Tony seemed to sense his torment because he was not done yet, "You're not broken, Peter, you're not. You're hurting and you're confused but you're not broken. You're still going out, you're still helping people and that means you are still you. How many people have you killed since?" The question was harsher than what he wanted but the point needed to be made.

Peter met him with those tear-filled eyes and he again wanted to retract the question but it needed an answer. Peter choked one out, "No one."

Tony took a hobbled hop forward until he closed the gap between them, close enough to touch Peter but he did not, he wanted him to understand first, "Exactly. You are not going to stop being you because you made one choice. Look at me, I've made thousands of horrendously terrible choices but I've learned. I've learned how to become better and you will continue to become better than you already are. You cannot let one horrible, worthless person take that away from you. Although I guess the fact that you are so upset about the scum of the earth, makes you better than the majority of people to begin with." Tony sighed and forced his way back to his point, "Peter, I need you to know that I am so proud of you, this does not in any way change that."

"You're not going to leave?" The whispered question was almost enough to make Tony lunge forward regardless of his injuries. But he did not, he took that final step and reached out to tug on Peter's arm and pull his kid into a hug.

Peter did not resist and let himself be pulled forward into the awkward, one casted hug.

Then Tony whispered the one thing he needed to hear, "I'm not going anywhere, kid. Not for a long time."

Peter let out a heavy breath he did not even know he had been holding and relaxed into the hug, "Thanks Mr. Stark."

Tony released the pressure on his back for a moment and he looked Pete in the eye, "You know you don't have to call me 'Mr. Stark'?"

"Yah I do." He said, smiling up at the man before ducking back into his shoulder.

In that instant, Tony finally got it. Peter could not call him dad. Richard Parker was his father. He could not bring himself to replace him. His uncle had the same honor but it had been expressed in the way he had known him first. For Peter, Tony would always be Mr. Stark. It was his way of honoring his father while still allowing for someone else to fill the role. The term that had started out as one of respect had become one that defined their relationship, the same way 'kid' did for him. Tony pulled his arms tighter around Peter and held him tight.

After a few minutes though, Tony could feel the weakness pressing on the back of his mind, he was still not at hundred percent. Hell he was not really at thirty. Loosening his hold on his kid, he could not help but wince as Peter held on for just a bit longer, "Pete, I…uh…I need to sit down."

Peter could hear the exhaustion in Mr. Stark's voice and he mentally kicked himself for making him stand, "Of course, I'm sorry." And he turned in his arms, putting himself under Mr. Stark's good arm and leading him over to the bed. It took a little maneuvering but Peter managed to get Mr. Stark leaned against the wood of the bunk bed before helping him stretch his broken leg onto a pillow he pulled from the top bunk. He propped the crutch against the wall so it would be easy to grab. As soon as he got him situated, Peter crawled into the bottom bunk from the opposite side and leaned against the back wall.

Tony could not help but close his eyes against the pain as Peter set about getting everything situated. He wanted to help but he just needed a second to close his eyes. Then he felt a weight on the mattress as the kid settled in next to him. Apparently he had closed his eyes for longer than a second but Peter's quiet voice forced Tony's senses to focus, "Can I get you anything, Mr. Stark?"

Tony looked over at him, "No, I'm alright, kid. Just needed to sit down for a minute. God I sound so old."

They sat shoulder to shoulder in companionable silence, both trying to muddle through the interaction that had just taken place, when Tony spoke up, "Pete, what made you think I was going to leave?"

Peter sighed not wanted to rehash what the man had said but realized he owed Mr. Stark an explanation, "I assumed that you would not want someone who was broken on the Avengers. And so when I started thinking about what the man kept telling me," he paused at Mr. Stark's confused expression, looking down before explaining, "he said you did not actually care about me, just about my abilities." When he looked up at the incredulous look on Mr. Stark's face, he felt his cheeks go red, but he continued, "I just, the more I thought about what had happened, I just could not help but listen to him."

Anger bubbled up in Tony's chest again at what that bastard had been able to do with just a little time and for a moment he wished Peter had not killed him because he would have gladly done it. But that was not helpful. Tony nudged Peter's leg with his casted arm, forcing the kid to look back at him, "Peter I care about you. I know I'm really bad at saying it," he paused, "and showing it, but I do." He choked out the next words, hating how awkward they sounded because of how little he said it, "I will do anything I can to protect you not because of what you can do but because of who you are. You're a good kid, Pete."

It could not have been that bad though because Peter smiled up at him, the blush disappearing from his cheeks, "Really?" That insecurity again, they really would need to talk about that.

"Yah, kid, really."

Peter turned and hugged him. Tony returned the gesture and when Peter pulled back, he left his casted arm around the kid's shoulders. Peter leaned into him, resting lightly against Tony's shoulder, careful of his injuries. Tony just watched him, Peter always was a bit more open about contact than he was but this was not so bad. Tony could deal.

They sat there for a bit longer. Tony was trying to come up with a way to help the kid because he might have assuaged some of the pain for the moment but it was not going away soon. Then it hit him. Craning his neck, Tony gave him his idea, "Pete, you should really talk to Sam about all this. He'll be able to help you deal with what happened."

"Who?" Peter scrunched up his face and tried to remember if he had met a Sam before, it sounded familiar but he could not place it.

Tony mentally kicked himself, of course the kid did not know who Sam was, so he used his made-up name, "Falcon."

Him Peter knew and he filed his name away for later before asking, "Why him?" He quickly squashed the irrational thought that Mr. Stark was pawning him off on someone else.

"Before he was Cap's Rhodey he was a therapist for military service members who were coming back and trying to get readjusted to civilian life. Its not exactly the same thing, but I bet he would be able to help you sort through some of this." Peter looked up at him with those big brown eyes and Tony saw the flash of worry there, quickly adding, "I'm not trying to pawn you off Pete, I just think you need to talk to someone who will actually be able to help you. I told you I'm not going anywhere, I just think you should talk to someone who has training to actually help you move passed this." Just for good measure, Tony squeezed his shoulder again and Peter looked up.

For the first time in a while Peter felt some relief from the crushing guilt. For the first time there was some plan, some option he could take. He whispered into Mr. Stark's shoulder, "Maybe I should."

Tony sighed at the relief he saw on the kid's face, he would do whatever he could to help, "He'll be back at the compound in a few days, I'll let him know that you'll be stopping by." Tony could not help the smile when the kid did not reject the idea of going back to the complex.

Peter just nodded into his shoulder. Then the kid thought of something as he watched Mr. Stark's increasingly hooded eyes, "Mr. Stark, how did you get up here? The elevator's been broken for a few weeks."

"I walked?" Was the confused answer.

Peter realized he should probably explain himself a bit better but he just ended up with a question, "Up seven flights of stairs?"

Tony's confusion at where the kid was going with this grew and he could not keep the playful indignation out of his tone, "Yah, I told Happy to wait outside and I hobbled my way up the steps, I'm not that old, Pete."

Then Peter found the right words, "I – uh – I was just wondering how you are going to get back downstairs if standing hurts right now."  
"Huh," the defensiveness was gone from his voice, "I hadn't actually considered that."

Peter sat up, "Let me talk to Aunt May. I'm sure she won't mind if you stay here tonight, that way you can get down to the car tomorrow morning."

He stood, careful not to jostle Mr. Stark, but stopped just shy of the door and turned around to face his mentor, "Thank you Mr. Stark, for everything."

Tony looked at the kid's face, so much brighter already, "Anytime, Pete. And thank you for saving me."

Peter smiled a shy half-smile before stepping out into the other room.

* * *

It did not take Peter long to get everything figured out. May was fine with it. Happy groaned a bit but still slapped Peter on the shoulder before getting back into the car. And Peter volunteered to take the couch so Mr. Stark could have his bed. It probably was not as comfortable as what he was used to but at least it was better than the lumpy cushions. The man was out in minutes anyway, snoring softly against the well-worn pillow case. Peter laid awake for a little longer trying to get his mind around what had happened. He had still killed someone, that was true but he reminded himself that it could not define him, told himself it would not define him. Mr. Stark had told him that he would be okay and he wanted so badly to believe him. So he did. He would talk to Sam and try to get back some of the control that man had somehow managed to take away.

And for the first time in nearly a month, Peter managed to sleep soundly.

* * *

 **Well that's it, I hope you enjoyed it and I hope everyone was not too OOC!**

 **Let me know what you thought and I hope you have a wonderful day!**

 **-Lily**


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